Page 14 of Clear Your Mind

FAITH

Did he ask for an involvement?

KRYSTAL

Well, no, but

While I was thinking of what to say, the three dancing dots teased me. Faith knows the highlights of what I went through in the past, so she’ll have a level head about it. If I need to freak out, she’ll freak out with me. If I need a smack in the back of the head, she’ll do that too. I trust her.

FAITH

Just relax and enjoy the ride. (wink wink) He’s not Jeff. Just have fun, ride the dick, and if he gets any feels you pull out, so to speak. Just don’t tell him where you live. He has no clue you’re local, keep it that way. Problem solved. Unless you get feels too, then ignore everything and enjoy.

What in the actual fuck. I trust her, but she is wrong in this. Not that I worry as much about him catching feels, but…I kinda already did and I can’t.

Again, she texts me before I have a chance.

FAITH

You can thank your fairy godbestie with dinner and drinks before I fly home. Smooches.

And just like that, I was alone in the bathroom, clutching my phone like a lifeline.

I don’t have a problem being assertive.

It’s possible I’ve even been called an aggressive bitch on more than one occasion.

One-night stands are my norm, my go-to.

My safe space.

Love ’em. Can’t get enough.

Ever since Jeff, they’re all I’m down for. No qualms about dismissing a man from bed in the morning, ever.

Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Thanks for a great time, but you gotta go. Most men have no issue with it either. Even prefer it. Everyone involved gets what they want, what they expect.

So why then am I hiding in the damn bathroom?

Because, for the first time in a really long fucking time, I’m thinking maybe I should listen to my gut when it comes to a man.

“No, you idiot,” I remind myself in the mirror. “He’s a literal six-foot red flag flapping around frantically in a gale-force wind, with MISTAKE emblazoned in flashing neon.”

After splashing some cold water on my face and another come to Jesusmeeting with my own reflection, I exit my sanctuary disguised as a public restroom.

Entering the event hall, I realize I spent more time hiding than I thought. The only person left is Buddy. He’s standing by my table with a banner slung over his shoulder and my carts ready to go. His eyes soften when he looks my way. The smile that graces his full lips is sweet. Like the sight of me—me—made it happen.

A hint of color blindness creeps into my vision. Maybe the flag is more burgundy than red? And that’s not the same thing at all, right?

“You staying upstairs?”

The rational side of me, the part that fell for a biker’s charm before with disastrous results, is banging a gong and ringing bells. I should say yes and direct him to Faith’s room, and I can leave after he does.

But this other part of me, the part that’s a shameless hussy, speaks first. “No, I’m local.”

If I thought his smile was bright before, it is fucking blinding after my pronouncement. He looks genuinely happy about it.

Maybe I can do a little more playing without it ending badly this time. Perhaps Buddy can prove that not all bikers are possessive dicks who see women as nothing more than a piece of pussy they own.

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